Live Again
by toxic64
Summary: Oceania, a beautiful African princess, escapes from her abusive father and homeland by diving head first into a paradise world only to discover that paradise has plenty of demons of its own, some that are physical, some that are mental, and some she and her father had a hand in creating.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Oceania stood in the middle of her bedchamber. Two of her bentas were dressing her and applying her makeup. They, themselves, wore amethyst-colored linen dresses with matching head scarves. According to her father, Kalla, it was a sign of his wealth and generosity as most leaders wouldn't spare the cost of having his slaves clothed.

"You look beautiful, Onqwi," Piya, the benta on her left, said.

Oceania fought back a grimace.

"Yes, the urii shall praise Ukachutwu once he sees you," said Sati, the benta to her right.

"The Tebi don't believe in the supreme creator or the ta'ajus. They have their own religion."

"Well, they'll believe once they see the onqwi. How else could anyone describe such a beautiful vision? Come see for yourself, Onqwi."

Each of her bentas took her by the hand and escorted her to the full-length mirror.

"See how beautiful you are?" said Sati. "You're perfect, the dress is perfect . . ."

Oceania was in a floor-length, long-sleeved black sheer gown with a gold net comprising amethysts sewn into it.

". . . the earrings are perfect . . ."

On her ears Oceania wore black X-shaped earrings made from ivory with an amethyst at the crisscross.

". . . and they go perfectly with your luako."

A luako was a silk egg-shaped black headdress with an amethyst, the jewel for Ukachutwu and the royal family, placed in the center-front. Everyone in the royal family wore one, the only difference being the size of the amethyst on the luako. It went by royal succession: as the ruler of the Kanaian empire, the uzakwa had the largest. The onkwa, the heir, came after him. Then the unqwi, the uzakwa's wife. Last was the onqwi, the female child of the uzakwa; however, women couldn't inherit the uzakwa title.

Oceania was also wearing a silver necklace with three large sapphires as pendants. It had been her mother's. Before that it had been her maternal grandmother's and her maternal great grandmother's before that.

(Every great family had gemstones that represented and paid tribute to the ta'aju of the region they were from. The lesser families had some type of cloth or clothing the same color as the gemstones. Those who didn't have either were said to both be and have bad luck.)

The necklace didn't fit with what she was wearing, it seldom did, but Oceania never went anywhere without it. It was as strange as her relationship with her mother itself: she'd had a very checkered relationship with her mother, but she still loved her.

"You must be so excited," Sati continued. "I have yet to meet a girl who doesn't dream of her wedding day." She and Piya were looking at Oceania expectantly. She knew what they were looking for, and she knew she had better give it to them. Or else.

She smiled and nodded. "I am, very much so."

She should be excited to be getting married. She was fifteen now, a full woman, and that was what women did with their lives: got married and had children. But the truth of the matter was Oceania was dreading tomorrow. While she may have had mixed emotions concerning her mother, she knew exactly how she felt about her father. She despised him, and tomorrow he would be forcing her to marry Ean, the urii of Teba and a man every inch as bad as him, for some alliance with Ean's father, the ruler of Teba. It was quite the anomaly: her father would normally just conquer his enemies, but this time they had come to form an alliance because her father couldn't defeat Teba, only being able to battle it to a stalemate. The country was said to be fortified by mountains, making it impregnable. She wished she could say the same for herself.

When she had been a child, she had often hoped and longed for marriage, for someone, anyone, to come and take her away from life with her father, his new wife, and their son, for someone to give her a new family to escape this one. But now, standing here in this beautiful gown, only a day away from her wedding, she realized what she had really hoped and longed for was her freedom and a chance to be happy.

Another of her bentas entered the room. "They're ready for you, Onqwi."

Her words were like a death drum to Oceania.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Her four bentas escorted her down the ivory corridor, hieroglyphs of the battle of Hesai (many years ago, her father had lured Ooko, the leader of Mezuka, into battle on a great grassland in Hesai. Ooko thought he had the greater numbers only to end up surrounded on all sides and then defeated by her father's cavalry) on its walls, to the dining hall. It felt as if they were ohari shuns escorting her to her execution, ready to restrain her should she try to run. They were taking her to her betrothed, Ean, so they could walk in together as the guests of honor at the new-family feast: a dinner to celebrate the merging of her family and her betrothed's to create a new family. It was a family-only event and the last one before the wedding.

The only family members she had coming were her father and brother. Oceania had asked her mother on many occasions what had happened to her side of the family, but she would never talk about it, only saying they had transcended into eternity with the supreme creator before turning the conversation to something else. Even at her mother's transcendence festival, which was to celebrate her life and her transcendence into eternity, the only family anyone had mentioned had been Oceania and her father. She didn't know what had happened to her father's side of the family either. Her mother had never met them, her father never mentioned them, and the one time Oceania had asked him about them, she had received a welt for her troubles.

There he was. Ean: tall. Beautiful dark skin. Smooth face. The sinewy muscles of a lion. Hazel eyes. An easy smile, like a river after miles of desert. She wondered what had made Ukachutwu hide such a hideous creature inside such a beautiful shell. He wore a black silk shirt, opened enough so you could see his powerfully built chest and a hint of his equally powerfully built abdomen, and matching pants and sandals. Around his waist was an itu: a blue-and-yellow-striped linen belt with two gold rings hanging on the end to indicate he was first in line in the royal succession of his ashaland, Teba. It was a country to the far south of Kanai that was so hot and arid they had to ride camels—which, she'd been told were delicious, especially salted—instead of horses. And they had an entirely different belief system. Oceania didn't understand how someone couldn't believe in Ukachutwu and the ta'ajus. They were as real to her as the air she breathed and the water she drank to stay alive, as they should be because they created them. Once she was married, however, she would have to give up her faith and convert to her betrothed's religion.

Her breath caught as she got closer to Ean. He was often crude and rough with her. During one of the times he had visited her during their courtship, he tried to avail himself of her while they were walking through the royal gardens. Her bentas were nearby and came running when they heard her distress. Ean threatened them; they threatened to tell Kalla, and that had been the end of that.

Oceania supposed she should feel grateful for them rescuing her, but she knew her bentas hadn't done it for her. They hated her, and they hated her father. The bentas were prisoners her father had captured from other countries in Zizouaye he had conquered. They had been young, beautiful women and girls of high birth, like her, in their ashalands, and her father had turned them into the personal slaves of the wealthy and royal families of Kanai (the female eiikus that they had with oharis and komeris would take their place once their youth and beauty were gone). Their sole purpose was to cater to their master's whims, and Kalla had given Oceania's bentas some unusual orders. Her father had nothing but utter contempt for her and expected the worst from her, so he had her bentas make sure she kept her legs together until her wedding night. If the peace treaty didn't go according to plan with the ruler of Teba, he could then have Oceania and her brother married into other royal families. Ean had originally presented himself as a gentleman, so her bentas had thought nothing of leaving him alone with her. Now when she and Ean met, they accompanied her as if their lives depended on it, because they did. They also watched Oceania to make sure she didn't do anything else to ruin her father's plans. It was bad enough she had been born a girl.

"You look beautiful, Oceania," Ean said with a heavy southern accent.

"Thank you," she said, her eyes down and her hands together at her waist.

He sighed, annoyed, and roughly took her hand. He gave a light knock on the feelka double hall doors, and the dain bentas on the other side opened them.

Asir, the agaba, in a floor-length black robe with purple stripes, announced, "Kalla, uzakwa of Kanai, and his unqwi, Quelsa; Ioaniko, tooksa of Teba, and his te'ata, Uya, I present Ean, the urii and future tooksa of Teba, and his betrothed, Oceania, the onqwi of Kanai, soon to be eyasi of Teba, and the future te'ata of Teba." Thunderous applause followed.

The spacious ivory dining hall had over two dozen long feelka benches and was capable of sitting twenty thousand, but tonight only two of its tables were filled. A dain benta took Ean and Oceania to their seats at the main table on the dais where their immediate family members sat. Kalla Qwaa rose, and he and Ean clasped hands like old friends. While she and Ean remained strangers during their betrothal, he and Kalla Qwaa had become so close you'd think they were the ones to be married.

She and Ean sat across from their parents. Her father, dressed in a black silk agbada with purple accents and his luako, already had his cold, dark, menacing eyes set on her, threatening her without saying a word. She shuddered to think what would happen if they hadn't had guests. She took a sip of wine to calm herself. When she set her golden amethyst-encrusted chalice down, she saw Quelsa: she was wearing her luako and a silk black-and-purple gown with a zig-zag design that accentuated her large breasts and wide hips, and her thick wrists were beautified with tubular silver-and-diamond wedding bracelets. She was looking at Oceania, judging her with her eyes. She'd never liked Oceania and never made any attempts to hide it. To be fair, Oceania had never liked her either. She was her mother's replacement, and a poor one at that. She sounded like a screeching spotted hyena, especially when she laughed, and had the face of one too. She frequently used coarse language and was knowledgeable only when it came to cooking and gossip, which wasn't surprising, given that she used to be one of the Mas Asha cooks before Oceania's father had married her. Her most egregious offense, however, was when she'd insisted that her father remove her mother from the hieroglyphs of Mas Asha.

"This is our asha, Kalla," she'd said, "and I am your unqwi, and unlike Solma, I will be your lasting unqwi. It should be me on these historical monuments, not her." And her father obliged! What next? Would her father allow her mother to be erased from all the libraries too? Oceania fought for her mother, telling her father he couldn't do this, that it would dishonor her mother was as well as himself; her father's retort was a strike to her jaw that knocked her on the floor, ending the debate: Solma would be removed from the Mas Asha hieroglyphs, and Quelsa would replace her. Her mother had been the unqwi during her father's greatest successes, supporting him, for better or worse—and in Oceania's opinion, it had definitely been worse—and all Quelsa had done was give birth to a boy.

Sadly, that was a woman's only worth in the world. That and looking beautiful. It didn't matter how smart or how talented you were, just how beautiful you looked and how many heirs you could give your husband. Not that long ago, her father had told her brother, "We must take great care in choosing your wife. The desirability of a man's wife is a reflection of that man's power and status in the world, and her providing sons for him ensures him a lasting dynasty as well as proves his virility." If having a beautiful wife was so important, she didn't understand why her father had chosen to marry Quelsa after her mother had died.

Oceania looked around the hall and saw all the wives with their sweet, docile smiles, laughing coquettishly at all the men's jokes but especially their husband's; not speaking unless spoken to, and always only after a confirming look from their husbands before doing so; proudly showing off the heir-filled swollen bellies their husbands had gifted them with; _knowing their place as women_. It was a sobering thought that this was to be her future.

"Don't look so sad, half-sister. After all, Ean's the one who has to marry you," chuckled Kalla Qwaa. Her little brother. The living miracle, according to the stories about him: her treacherous father had remarried only a few moons after her mother had died, and then his new wife gave birth to a boy only two years younger than Oceania a moon after that—a miracle birth, her father had said, granted by the great Ukachutwu to make up for the terrible and sudden passing of the first unqwi and her inability to produce an heir.

Kalla Qwaa was dressed exactly like their father, but with a smaller amethyst on his luako. He looked like their father too, before time had added lines and hair to his face. He always called her half-sister, as if to say they weren't really family, a taunt he had probably learned from his vile mother. Or their father. The boy had never had a single original thought, so he had to have learned it from somebody. The insult hurt her more than she cared to admit, but she didn't know why. In all the years they had lived together, they had never been close. Oceania would've loved to strike Kalla Qwaa back, but she knew their father would never allow it. Her brother could be indulged anything. She could not. He sat next to his betrothed, Jalia. A beautiful, ebullient girl of thirteen and Ean's sister, dressed in a pink feathery dress to show off her blossoming figure, with matching makeup and nails. She was very sweet and kind, nothing at all like her brother.

Ean stood up, golden chalice in hand. "I'd like to make a toast. I've been a man for four years now. I fought in the war that divided our families. When my father told me that I was to marry the daughter of our former enemy, I thought him a fool. Of course I didn't dare speak my thoughts to him"—much laughter from the crowd—"but I thought it was madness to marry the daughter of our scourge. And then I came here, and I met Oceania." He took her hand in his, much more gentle than he had been before. "Stand up, oti."

Oceania felt her pulse quicken as she followed his command. What was he doing?

"She is the most beautiful, graceful, elegant creature I have ever laid eyes on. And after spending much time with her"—he turned to look at her father—"all very chaste, I assure you"—more laughter from everyone—"I discovered that her beauty was surpassed only by the magnificence of her heart. She will do me a great honor tomorrow by becoming my wife. And I can only hope I do the same when I become her husband." He looked at her, a lascivious smirk on his face disguised as a warm and loving smile. "I love you, oti." He pressed his lips against hers and forced his tongue inside her mouth. Ean had planned this, foisting intimacy upon her at a time when he knew she couldn't resist; if she did, worse than a kiss would await her. Her father would make sure of it if she embarrassed him in front of their honored guests. She wanted to scream, to bite him, to push him off, but since she couldn't, she did the only thing she could do: nothing. She might have been an onqwi, but she might as well have been a benta.

Everyone gave them another round of applause.

They sat back down. The smell of roasted ostrich and bush pig and egusi stew filled Oceania's nostrils. She also saw sliced cucumbers and roasted yams. All of them among her favorite foods, but she didn't want any of it. She wanted to end her engagement. After what had transpired tonight, she knew she could not go through with this marriage, but she didn't have the power to stop it. Only one of the fathers, a komeri, or the uzakwa could, with the uzakwa having the final word. She knew only someone with the mind of a fooso or the insane would try what she was intending to try, but she didn't know what else to do. She was desperate, and desperate people do insane and foolish things.

After the feast, she steeled herself and approached her father in his confidential chamber, where he met in private to work with his inner circle of advisors, the walls painted with hieroglyphs of how he had saved Kanai from the previous uzakwa. Her bentas waited in the hallway with her and her father's ohari shuns.

Her father was working at his feelka desk. It was lined with gold and spotted with amethysts. Free of his luako, his shiny bald head reflected the light coming from the torches in the walls.

"It was a wonderful feast, Father," she said. "I am humbled by your generosity."

"Which is why you only had a few sips of wine tonight?" He was being sarcastic, but his voice sounded warm, charming, inviting. It always did. Until it didn't. She had the terrible memories and the faded bruises associated with them to prove it, and so had her mother. It had taken her years of living with him to learn what would make him angry, and what signs to look for that he was about to become angry.

"Forgive me if I have offended you, Father. I meant no harm."

"I've forgiven far worse from you, Daughter, of course I can forgive this. Just make sure you perform all of your duties, tomorrow. Your reticence with Ean tonight did not go unnoticed. An heir is needed from this union, Oceania. You've already been a disappointment in so many ways, you don't want to be a disappointment in this way like your mother, do you? All she could produce was you."

He never missed an opportunity to slight her mother, even seven years after her passing. She pushed his insult to the back of her mind, something she had gotten used to since her mother had transcended, and pressed a smile onto her face. She was on a mission. "I . . . that was what I came to speak to you about, Father. I probably should have said something earlier. I . . ."

"What is it, girl?"

"I . . ."

"What!"

"I can't do this, Father, marry Ean. Please don't require it of me. I never ask you for anything. Please, Father."

Since she'd been there, her father had not looked up once, paying far more attention to the stack of papyrus on his desk than to her. Now, she had his attention, and by the way his beard twitched, she would soon have his wrath. He moved toward her, and she moved back, his imposing, strongly built body eclipsing hers like the moon eclipsing the sun.

"This alliance is a year in the making. Your and your brother's marriages to the children of Teba are the lynchpin to that alliance. Your wedding will go on tomorrow as planned."

"He hurts me. I am terrified of what will happen if our union is confirmed and I have to move to Teba with him."

"Your wedding will go on tomorrow as planned."

He wouldn't even listen to her. It was making her angry, and she could feel herself showing it, something she hadn't done in ages. "You do so much for Quelsa and Kalla Qwaa, it won't hurt you to do this one thing for me—ah!" The back of her father's hand sent her to the floor, her luako landing a few feet away, her box braids that had been neatly tucked inside it splayed like octopus tentacles, the amethysts beaded into the ends like little drops of ink. Her father was on his haunches now. He took her by the nape of the neck to pull her closer to him.

"I am the leader of the Kanaian empire and I am your father. You will do what I say, when I say it, no questioning, no arguing, do you understand, little girl?" His voice rang with rage, and droplets of spittle landed on her face. He always spat when he was truly angry.

"Yes, I understand, Father," she said, her voice cracking, her eyes doing their best not to meet his, those eyes that were always so dark, menacing, and full of terror whenever they laid upon her. They were the eyes of true evil.

He dropped her back to the floor as he stood back up. "Good," he said, heading back toward his desk, his voice back to being suave and charming. "Don't forget your luako. And tell your bentas to see to your face. It needs to be exceptional tomorrow."


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Oceania gathered herself and her luako off the floor, her cheek still suffering the sting of her father's hand.

"And tell your bentas to see to your face. It needs to be exceptional tomorrow."

"Yes, Father," she said and then left his chambers, a few tears escaping as she went. It wasn't her face. It had been only a strike, and her father had done much worse to her over the years. No, it wasn't the strike that was making her cry. It was that she had lost hope. Her father had been her only way out of this marriage, and even though she had known it was highly unlikely that he would grant her request, a small part of her had still hoped that he would say yes, that he would care for her, just this one time, when she most needed it. But he had said no, and she would now have to marry Ean.

She collapsed on the floor as soon as she entered her bedchamber, her breathing labored and her body shaking. It felt as if her heart was going to explode in her chest. She had to crawl to her bed. She couldn't remember having ever been this scared.

Oceania lay in bed, wide awake, staring at the walls that told the story of the first rain. She hadn't slept well at night since she was five—that had been when she first saw her father beat her mother, but tonight she couldn't sleep at all, because tomorrow, she would become her mother. Tomorrow, she would marry Ean, and she would have to live forever with him putting his hands on her; with him forcing himself inside her, the same way he had forced his tongue inside her mouth; with him planting his seed inside her, so she could bear his children. She sat up in bed. _Had my father forced himself inside my mother_? _Is that how I was conceived_?

_I can_'_t do this_. Oceania got out of bed. She was not going to marry Ean. She was not going to be her mother. She was not going to live her life for other people, especially for people who would do her harm. She wanted to live her life for herself, which meant she had to get out of Mas Asha.

She opened her bedroom window and walked out onto the balcony: ohari shuns walked the grounds (the amethysts on the pommels of their swords glowed in the darkness, like lilac fireflies) and sharp metal spikes protruded from the walls of Mas Asha. The spikes were meant to keep enemies from sneaking into the fortress, a last line of defense against intrigue, but they were also keeping her from getting out. And she couldn't simply walk downstairs and leave through the main gates, at least not without a fight, which she would assuredly lose.

And then she remembered the royal tunnels. Only the royal family and the ohari shuns knew about them. They were an escape route for the royal family should a war ever go against Kanai. It wouldn't be easy to get to them, but it was her only real option. She would have to be quick. Since Ean was here, her bentas came to check on her every so often to make sure _they_ were behaving themselves. She had only one thing she needed to take with her: her mother's sapphire necklace. She kept most of her jewelry in a chest in her clothing chamber, but she kept her mother's necklace on the feelka table by her bed. She liked to keep it close.

"It was my mother's before it was mine, and it was her mother's before that," her mother had said, between coughs, when she'd given it to her, taking it off her own neck and putting it on Oceania's. It had been during Oceania's life festival. If you were royalty, you received one for every year you were alive, and this had been Oceania's eighth. Instead of her usual life festivals, consisting of a feast, nude dancers, and oharis sparring in the dining hall of Mas Asha, Father had allowed them to have that year's celebration at Ieoyi lake, a favorite spot for her and her mother. Named after a famous warrior from the Krupiia tribe of Aetepia centuries ago, it was also located there. The festival started when the sun was high and lasted until the sky started to darken, but Oceania could've stayed all night. People came from all over. Fresh fish was caught and fried and served with juicy tomatoes. There was also clam sikki (a baked dish made with clams, mushrooms, and olives with a crispy, thin dough crust); sweet bread, made with sugar and cinnamon; fresh fruit; and an assortment of other food to eat. Nude female dancers moved wildly and sensuously to music being played on drums, koras, balafons, and algaita; and everyone joined in. And there was, of course, plenty of swimming—a favorite pastime of Oceania's and her mother, but her mother hadn't been up for swimming that day—as well as games played in the lake, like underwater racing, where you and the people you played with competed to see who could swim underwater the longest (Oceania didn't have any friends, but the children of the komeris played with her that day, and she was convinced they had let her win because her father was the uzakwa). All the komeris brought her presents, but the necklace from her mother was the one she treasured. "I hope I live long enough to see you give it to your daughter." Her mother had been sick for a while, and none of the healers could figure out how to cure what ailed her. She overheard some of the servants saying there was a ritual the komeris of the Moaka region could perform to restore one's health, but her father had killed all the good, knowledgeable ones. When she asked her mother to explain what they had been talking about, her mother told her not to concern herself with such things. She always did that. Whenever a difficult subject came up, she refused to discuss it. And she never stood up for herself, or Oceania.

Oceania had been six when she'd had enough of seeing her father hit her mother. "No, stop!" she screamed, jumping in between them after her father's fist had brought her mother to her knees. Her mother had made her own scream as she fell. The strike itself was troubling enough, but the scream, this guttural, primal scream—it was so disturbing, it stirred something in Oceania, causing her to act. "You hit her again, and I will hit you!" She shoved her father, but it had the same effect of an ant trying to shove a lion. He shoved her in return, sending her sliding across the floor.

"I hate you!" Oceania gasped as she stood, struggling to catch her breath after her father's blow.

He moved toward her.

"No, I'll discipline her," her mother said pleadingly, still on her knees in an upright position. She was holding her bleeding lip to keep her black-, blue-, and purple-striped dress immaculate. She had rearranged her box braids, so they were no longer disheveled but pushed back, giving prominence to her stunning angular face. Even when in an undignified position, her mother maintained her dignity and poise. "Who better to teach her the ways of woman than a woman?"

"You're barely a woman," he spat. "A woman is supposed to give her husband heirs! All you have given me is that disappointment." He gestured toward Oceania. "Were it not for your great beauty, I wouldn't know what you are." He scoffed. "And they say the more beautiful the woman, the more heirs she'll provide you."

Her mother didn't say anything. She didn't do anything. She never said or did anything when he took his frustrations out on her. It was infuriating, which is why this time Oceania said and did something.

"She's more of a woman than you are a man," Oceania said.

"That's enough, Oceania," her mother said.

"Mother, you can't—"

"That's enough, I said. Stop it. You must learn your place as a woman." Her mother came to her. "It is not our place to question or antagonize our husbands or our fathers. They get enough of that out in the world. We are here to follow them, to support them, to give them comfort, to give our husbands heirs, and in return, they provide for us and protect us."

"But—"

"What did I say, Oceania?"

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She looked from her mother to her father, huffed, then left for her bedchamber.

She would get more messages like that from her mother. She hated her for her weakness, for trying to make Oceania weak, for listening to her father when he would say she needed to be disciplined because she spoke out against him, because she liked to read, because she liked to learn, because she didn't waste her time aspiring to marriage, because she was acting more like a little boy than a little girl.

Her mother hadn't been like that when it had been only the two of them. They would have the most wonderful talks about fashion, history, and religion. Oceania didn't understand how her mother, how this beautiful, intelligent, regal woman had not only made herself small for her father but had tried to do the same to Oceania as well.

She didn't understand her father either. Why was he always trying to lessen them? Wouldn't their family have been stronger if all three of them had been strong? And why had he never laid a hand on Quelsa or her brother? Quelsa got to question him; she got to make demands (clearly, she hadn't had to learn her place as a woman), and her brother got to do whatever he wanted, and her father never harmed them. Why? What was so special about them? Was it simply because Kalla Qwaa was his son, his miracle child, and Quelsa had born him? Or was it because he loved them and didn't love Oceania and her mother? Or was it something else entirely? That was one of the main reasons she hated Quelsa and Kalla Qwaa. They got to be a real family with him. They got his love and care, while all she and her mother got were his fists and feet and his harsh words.

Things got worse after her mother had died. With her mother no longer there to act as intermediary, her father beat her, physically and verbally, every chance he got. And Quelsa and Kalla Qwaa were no strangers to joining in on the bruising. Oceania had fought back for as long as she could, but the war of attrition eventually made her compliant. She wondered if that was what happened to her mother. Maybe she had started off as a strong, confident woman, and her father's constant barrage of attacks had broken her down. Maybe that was what had made her so sick in the end.

Even during the beatings, even after the bruises had arrived, her mother's health had remained strong, but during her final moon, she'd developed a cough that wouldn't go away; then her limbs had become frail; then she had started coughing up blood; then, not long after Oceania's life festival, she had become bedridden with fever; and then she had died. Maybe her body had born all the beatings it could bear and gave up. She didn't know what had caused her mother's death. She just knew she had to escape, or she could very well end up in the same predicament.

She put her necklace on and her silk black night robe, pulling the hood up over her head. She put her amethyst-encrusted silk sandals on. She crept to the door and gingerly opened it, so she didn't make a sound. She looked left, then right: she didn't see anyone, and there was no one coming. She stole down the hall to where the bentas slept. Over a dozen slept in a room a quarter of the size of the one she slept in alone, while in their ashalands, they had probably each slept in a room like hers. She traded her silk black sleeping dress for one of their amethyst-colored linen dresses, her jeweled sandals for a pair of their plain brown leather ones, and her silk night robe for one of their amethyst-colored cloaks and wrapped her jeweled hair in one of their amethyst head scarves to conceal her identity to anyone she might encounter when she was free.

She had made it downstairs unnoticed and was in the small kitchen now. This was the one for requests you might have after everyone had gone to bed and the main kitchen was closed. A few dain bentas (they were the ugly, the old, and the child prisoners her father had captured during his conquests. They did menial work for the paid servants that kept them out of sight, like cleaning.) usually stayed in here to help with such requests, but you usually had to wake them, and fortunately, tonight was no exception.

She tiptoed past the sleeping dain bentas and into their living chambers, which was right behind the small kitchen. The room was dark, but she knew where she was going. She made her way across the room, careful with her steps in case there was a sleeping body on the floor, with her arms outstretched, stopping when she felt a wall. She moved her hands near the bottom and stopped when she felt a hole. She stuck a finger in there and turned it clockwise. The wall turned sideways, revealing a large underground tunnel.

"No one would ever think the uzakwa would deign to keep something important where he keeps his dain bentas," her father had boasted when he'd shown it to her and her mother, more to show off how clever he was than for their actual safety, she was sure, but she was appreciative just the same.

She had done it. All she had to do was walk through, and she was free. Her body shuddered, and a laugh escaped her lips. She stood as still as possible, listening for any sign her reaction to freedom had woken the dain bentas. After a few moments of silence, she felt she was still safe.

Before she could curse herself for being so stupid, a scream of utter horror coming from upstairs pierced her ears. "The onqwi is gone!" It was one of her bentas.

Oceania sprinted through the tunnels with as much speed as Ukachutwu could grant her. She knew it wouldn't be long before the ohari shuns were summoned, and if she didn't put enough distance between Mas Asha and herself, they would catch her. And if they caught her—while her father wouldn't kill her, especially when he still needed her for his alliance, he would surely find some other way, something she wouldn't be able to forget, to make her pay for her escape attempt.

The tunnels led out to a forest. A thought crossed her mind: what if there were wild animals out here? She pushed the thoughts away and ran, ran as hard and fast as she could into the moonlit night.

_Aah_! Thick tree branches ripped at her clothes as she ran, and broke skin, making her bleed.

Her legs ached and itched from exertion, and her lungs burned. She tripped over a rock and stayed down, her ribcage rapidly expanding and contracting as she gasped for air. She wanted to give up. Would a few bad moments with Ean every now and then be so bad if she got to live in comfort? She closed her eyes. Someone would find her soon. Her mother appeared before her on her deathbed. She opened her eyes, and her mother was still there. She shook her head to clear her mind, and the image was no more. The answer was yes.

She tried to run again, but her body wouldn't cooperate, so she crawled, over rocks and broken branches, her hands, knees, shins, and feet a crisscross of cuts, as she struggled to freedom.

The forest gave way to a cliff. Oceania crawled to the ledge and saw what at first glance looked like a constant stream of silver in the moonlight. It was actually a waterfall, a waterfall that looked as though it stretched to the very end of the earth. This was Mas Suppa, the highest waterfall in the world. It was said her father executed his most infamous enemies here by binding their hands and feet and throwing them over the ledge and into the waterfall. Of course he would chase her here.

She heard footsteps and men's voices behind her. It was the ohari shuns. They had caught up to her and would be upon her in moments. She wouldn't even be able to escape them running, let alone crawling.

There was only one other option: the waterfall. She knew it was against Ukachutwu to commit suicide, but she couldn't go back. A lifetime of beatings and forced impregnation would not be for her. She hoped she survived, but if she died, at least it would be her choice. She would be doing it on her own terms, and she would know what if felt like, at least once in her life, to be free. If the ohari shuns caught her, she was as good as dead anyway.

She kissed her necklace and prayed to Aetepia for safe travel, then she kissed one of the amethysts in her hair and prayed to Ukachutwu for forgiveness should she fail to survive; and using what little strength she had left, she hurled herself over the ledge.


End file.
